Moonlight
by TheMoonAlwaysFalls
Summary: Moonlight falls and doubles come out to play. - Vlad/himself, Striking Fear, short


_Why should a man's mind have been thrown into such close, sad, sensational, inexplicable relations with such a precarious object as his body? ~ Thomas Hardy_

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The bedroom was dark, lit only by the sliver of moonlight peeking through the median slit in the thick gold curtains. The cold white light fell across the head of Vlad's bed, directly over his closed eyelids, and he flinched in his sleep. The temperature in his enormous bedroom fell just above freezing, but then, there were always ghosts of some sort crawling around, so it was always ice-cold. In fact, it was so cold that he was never totally sure if his ghost sense was firing off or if the reflex had just stopped altogether due to the constant presence of ghosts in his home.

He buried himself down deeper in the covers of the bed as he slowly became aware that he was being watched. From where, he couldn't quite identify; his ghost sense wasn't that specialized. The room _was_ awfully cold. It was perhaps another ghost, but not one that would dare to take a shot at him, even in his sleep.

Tendrils of cold began to seep underneath the thick coverlet on his bed and lick at his bare chest and back. He jerked the covers around him, but the uncomfortable cold persisted to drag across his formerly warm skin. Unfortunately awake and groggy, he cracked one eye open to survey the room. Perhaps whomever - or whatever - was watching him would be visible; if they weren't, they were certainly treading dangerous territory by being close enough to him to touch him in his sleep. Touching a large bear or an angry dog would have been a better choice than feeling up Vlad.

Vlad looked around but saw nothing, although the wispy, chilling breeze beneath his coverlet wasn't so much a breeze anymore as fingers gently trailing his skin. Still barely corporeal but most definitely real, the fingers turned into cool palms dragging across his chest, fingers playing with every dip and line of hard, well-worked muscle. He sighed into his pillow, enjoying the sensation and no longer unduly concerned about the cold. He worked his hand underneath his body and found his dick straining against his silk boxers, achingly hard and hot despite the coolness of the room.

Above him, Plasmius phased into full corporeality. Of course it was him; Vlad must have projected a duplicate in his sleep, probably out of some sort of desperate subconscious lust. What _had _he been dreaming? He vaguely remembered the Fenton boy's ghost persona somewhere in his short-term memory.

His ghostly half pulled the coverlet down from around his shoulders, leaving him exposed to the cold. He straddled the backs of Vlad's thighs and bent forward over him, his hands on either side of Vlad's head.

"Touch yourself, Vladimir," he whispered, his ghost voice eerily similar but somehow not quite the same as Vlad's voice. It was softer, somehow still rougher than his human voice, but not at all unpleasant to the ear in his current state of listless lust. "Do it. It's what you want. It's why I'm here now."

Plasmius tugged his boxers down, leaving Vlad free and unrestrained. Vlad did as he was told and wrapped his slender fingers around the base of his dick, grinding his hips down into the silky sheets. He turned his head, craning to look back at his ghostly self. He ordered, "Keep touching me. It's what you're here for." Plasmius grinned and obliged him only too willingly.

Vlad stroked him quickly, fingering his dick from base to tip in short, shallow jerks. His hips snapped up to meet his fist, earning an eager hair-pull from Plasmius. The ghost shoved his head into the pillow and reached between his legs to stroke Vlad's balls. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against the tip of his dick as he fisted himself; it was one of his favorite spots, and he gasped as he thrust his hips again.

His balls tightened as Plasmius stroked them; two of Plasmius's fingers rubbed the base of his dick and around his groin. Heat curled down into his abdomen, and his mind wandered listlessly as he fisted himself closer to his end. He was barely aware that he was moaning, much less aware of what exactly he was saying, and he couldn't hear Plasmius's encouragements in the slightest.

He came hard, a deep groan tearing from his throat as he came on the sheets. He might have said someone's name, but he couldn't be sure; he had been wishing it was Daniel Fenton's hands wrapped around his dick, but he was at a loss as to whether he'd called out Danny's name or not.

Plasmius bent down and licked the shell of Vlad's ear, whispering praise in his rough voice. The double above him dissipated, leaving only the phantom sensation of someone relaxing against the backs of Vlad's thighs. He shucked his boxers off, relishing the touch of the silky sheets against his overly sensitized ass and sides, and cleaned himself off as best he could. It was warmer in the bedroom now, so he scooted closer to the edge of his bed, rolled over, and fell back asleep, satisfied and content.

Moonlight danced against the door, sinking lower and growing longer as day approached.

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**A/N:** There are never enough Vlad masturbation fics.


End file.
